


don't own me (but you really do)

by hey_you_with_the_face



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, Bottom Dean, Gags, Lounge singer Dean, M/M, Possessive Castiel, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Top Castiel, teasing Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_you_with_the_face/pseuds/hey_you_with_the_face
Summary: Dean decides to make some use of his last song of the evening; his lover is not amused...





	

_Dean smirked as the opening bars of his final song started playing; he ran his hands up and down the microphone stand suggestively, his eyes scanning the darkened club but purposefully avoided the private booth in the back corner._

_“You don’t own me,” he sang huskily into the mic, “I’m not just one of your many toys.”_

Rough hands grabbed his hips, slamming him into a wall. A hot body pressed up against him.

_His hands went up to slowly undo his loosened tie, tugging the fabric leisurely until it fell free; he twined the silky material around his wrist. His gaze raked seductively over the crowd, meeting the eager eyes of the patrons who eyed him hungrily and giving each one a second of his time._

_All but one of course._

One of the hands on his hips reached up to tangle in his hair, giving it a sharp tug backward; his gasp was swallowed by the demanding mouth that covered his own.

_“You don’t own me,” he crooned, deftly unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt and rolling up his sleeves as he swayed slightly with the beat. He could feel the heated gaze of the man he knew would be seated in the darkened booth. “Don’t say I can’t go with other boys.”_

_Those intense blue eyes, already burning a hole straight through him, had to be blazing like cold fire now as Dean took his mic and waltzed over to one of the men in house band; he draped his tie over the broad shoulders of the guitarist with a flirtatious smile. He snuck a brief glance at the booth before running a hand down the musician’s cheek and turning around._

The hand he’d dared to use to touch someone other than his lover was pinned harshly to the wall by his head but Dean didn’t care, he was too busy grinding against the muscular thigh that pushed itself between his legs. Zings of pleasure sparked down his spine to pool in his groin.

_“And don’t tell me what to do,” he belted out, voice roughened by singing earlier, “And don’t tell me what to say.” Holding the mic with one hand, he tangled one hand into his own hair and tugged lightly before sliding his hand down his body, slowly, enticingly. “And please when I go out with you, don’t put me on display.”_

_He moved his hips sinuously in time with the music, putting on a show; even though he was on stage, blinded by the bright light shining on him and in front of a crowd that hung on every word that fell from his mouth and on every movement he made, Dean was performing for an audience of one._

His hands travelled restlessly over the hard chest in front of him and his hips rocked rhythmically in a distant mimic of his dance on stage earlier that night. Their mouths parted suddenly and Dean gasped sharply, breathless.

“Turn around,” a voice growled in his ear and he shivered at the heat of it.

Dean complied instantly, aching with need and excited for what was to come, and pressed his front into the coarse surface of the brickwall.

_“‘Cause you don’t own me,” Dean sang, ignoring the silent demand of the man watching him intently from the booth; he smiled and made eyes at the customers he could see in the smoky darkness of the club. He purposefully made the man even more irritated by kneeling down and running finger under the chin of a pretty young thing seated near the stage. “Don’t try to change me in anyway.”_

His pants and underwear were dragged down his thighs roughly and his legs were kicked as wide as they would go with the fabric bunched at his knees. He moaned loudly at being manhandled and cursed in bliss as slick fingers slid into his hole. His reward for his enthusiasm by a familiar blue tie being shoved into his mouth.

“I’ve had quite enough of your filthy mouth tonight, Dean,” his lover rumbled in his ear, fingers never stilling. “You should know better than to tease me.”

_Finally unable to resist the magnetic pull, Dean turned his attention to the private booth. He stared challengingly into the darkness, his smile smug as he poured his soul into the lyrics he sang to his lover who lurked in the shadows, “You don’t own me, Don’t tie me down because I’ll never stay.”_

The fingers withdrew without warning and Dean was left feeling unbearably empty. He whined around the makeshift gag and reached back, grasping at the man behind him with one hand and made to reach for his hard, leaking cock with the other.

A grip like steel grasped each hand and jerked them so they were at the small of his back. “Hands to yourself,” his lover ordered. His hands were bound with a silken tie, the one that he’d draped over his shoulders after retrieving it from the guitarist.

Dean groaned wantonly as he pictured what he must look like; pants around his knees with his cock swollen and dripping, mouth gagged and hands tied at the small of his back. They were only backstage, any of the club workers could find them and that thought made his dick throb.

“Please,” he begged, his words muffled by the tie but he knew that that was what the other man wanted and that the message would get across just fine. “Please fuck me, fucking touch me, anything please. Use me.”

A dark chuckled met this plea and Dean though he could cry with relief when he heard the rasp of a zipper. The hot, hard body was back but this time the blunt head of his lover’s cock pressed insistently at his entrance before breaching him; Dean pushed his hips back, wanting to be filled.

After the initial intrusion, Dean barely had time to take a breath before he’s being drilled into; his face pressed into the rough brick of the wall. The gag took the brunt of his groans and whines of pleasure as he was fucked without mercy but he could still hear helpless whimpers and moans escaping him. 

The teasing on stage, the rough treatment at the hands of his lover and the pinpoint accuracy of the thrusts currently nailing his prostate had him hovering at the edge. His fists clenched impotently behind him, wanting to reach down to stroke his neglected dick until he came but all he could do was keen helplessly as the fire in his gut grew but stopped just before tossing him over.

“Do you want to come, Dean?” the man fucking him asked, slightly breathless but never stopping the devastating pump of his hips. He ran a hand through Dean’s sweat damp hair and tugged it back, the slight pain of the pull shooting right to his cock causing Dean to shudder. The gag was suddenly ripped from his mouth and Dean groaned as the thrusts get harder and more forceful.

“Yes! Yes, please!” Dean cried out, the dance on the precipice wiping out all traces of the bratty attitude that had lead him to tease his lover during his show. He didn’t care about proving a point anymore; he just needed to come, needed it more than anything.

A hand slipped around to his front, fingers toying at the skin above his aching cock; Dean sobbed with frustration when the hand didn’t move down to grasp him. 

“Then tell me who you belong to,” his lover demanded, his hips starting to jerk out of rhythm as he too got closer to his orgasm. “If you want to come, tell me who gives you your pleasure, who makes you come so hard you can’t speak. Who owns you?”

“Y-you,” Dean breathed, “Only you.” He gasped as the teasing hand wraps around him firmly and jerked him, once, twice, three times before he came violently, dragging his lover over with him and wailing the man’s name for everyone to hear.

“Castiel!”

**Author's Note:**

> Lesley Gore's "You Don't Own Me" popped up on my iPod on the drive home from work today and it helped me give birth to this little story. I tried experimenting with my usual story telling style and I think I worked, let me know what you guys think.
> 
> I was actually going to work on getting this posted sometime tomorrow but, due to me getting caught up in writing smut, I missed the first half of tonight's episode so I figured I might as well share the smut since I have to wait until tomorrow to watch now. :P Oh well, my blunder will be (hopefully) you guys' gain.


End file.
